


Get Down, Stay Down

by bry0psida



Series: Harringrove Advent [24]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bank Robbery, Christmas Eve, Guns, This Is STUPID
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21935176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bry0psida/pseuds/bry0psida
Summary: Steve's Christmas Eve takes a strange turn.
Series: Harringrove Advent [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558885
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Get Down, Stay Down

**Author's Note:**

> "You’re robbing the bank on Christmas eve and I’m a hostage but you’re actually really nice." [Prompt](https://verobird.tumblr.com/post/153891387911/christmas-prompts-some-i-made-up-some-i-took)
> 
> No one gets physically injured or shot, but given all the shit going down in America rn y'all might wanna proceed with caution.

The first thing Steve hears is the doors of the bank being kicked open, the second is the rustling of people all turning at once to look at the same thing, the third is the loud _click click_ of a shotgun being pumped, and the fourth is, “Everybody get the fuck down, this is a robbery!”

Well, shit.

Steve turns, gets down on his knees like everyone else. There’s three of them in ski masks and head to toe black, all holding guns. The girl stalks up to the counter, Steve shuffles out of her way. She gets a two duffle bags on it, demands they _fill ‘em all the way up_. There’s a dude blocking the doors with a pistol trained on security and another strolling round the bank. Crowd control, probably. Jingle Bell Rock is playing quietly in the background. Steve feels like he’s in a movie.

“Alright, everybody stay cool, do what I tell you, and nobody needs to get hurt.”

Steve’s like, weirdly calm about what’s happening. His life is super in danger and he’s just. Fine. Maybe he’s gonna go into delayed shock or whatever, feel ok till he gets home then lose his shit. Assuming he gets home. Might as well take advantage of the delayed emotional response. He digs his headphones out of his pocket with one hand, eyes on the robbers. Plugs them in, slips a bud in his ear, pocket dials 911.

_**911, what is your emergency?** _

Steve taps the microphone.

_**Hello?** _

Steve taps again.

_**Can you hear me?** _

_Tap tap._

_**Are you unable to speak? Press 4 for yes, 5 for no.** _

Steve thumbs for the 4 key, presses it.

_**What service do you require? Press 1 for police assistance, press 2 for-** _

Steve hits 1.

_**Alright, I’m dispatching officers to your location now. Are you able to stay on the phone?** _

Crowd control guy is shaking down customers, rifling through wallets, pocketing phones and jewelry. Steve hits 5 and hangs up, stuffs the headphones back in his pocket. Crowd control guy gets to Steve last, doesn’t even ask, just holds out his hand. Steve’s glad he didn’t have the chance to get any cash out before they burst in. He hands over his mostly empty wallet, his beat up phone, his retro watch. Crowd control guy turns off the phone before tossing it and the watch back at Steve, thumbs through the wallet, takes out a 5 then drops that too. He winks a baby blue at Steve before sauntering away.

“B,” says the guy by the door. “I see lights, someone called the fuckin’ cops.”

Crowd control guy sighs, slings the shotgun over his shoulder. “Damn it.”

The girl at the counter slams her hand on it, shoots a round into the ceiling. “Who the fuck called? Huh?”

The teller drops the bags back onto the counter with shaking hands. Steve hears sirens. B stalks over to her, smacks her up the back of the head. “What the fuck, C! You weren’t supposed to actually load it.”

Door guy hurries over. “We gotta bounce,”

A deep voice crackles through a megaphone. “ _We have the building surrounded! Come out with your hands up_!”

C kicks the counter. “Fuck. Fuck!”

B whips a burner out of his back pocket, speed dials, snaps it shut almost as quick as he opened it. “They’re lying, driver’s good. We’re goin’ out the back.”

Door guy hops the counter, barks at the teller to show him the way out. B’s over next, C hangs back.

“What the fuck are you doing?” B asks.

She’s looking very pointedly at Steve. “We should take a hostage.”

“Why the fuck would we do that? You’re wasting time, let’s go.”

“In case they follow us! They can’t shoot at a car with a hostage.”

“How are they supposed to know we have one?”

“We call and tell them,”

“Yeah, let’s let ‘em know where we’re going while we’re at it,” B scoffs on his way out the door. “Crazy bitch.”

C is looking between the door, Steve and back again. She settles on Steve, waves her pistol at him. “C’mon, up you get.” Steve blinks at her. _This can’t be happening_. She cocks the gun at him, fury in her eyes. “I said get the fuck up! Move your ass!” _This is happening. It’s definitely happening_. He does as he’s told, makes his way out the back of the bank on shaky legs with the barrel of a gun pressed to his low back. He’s rushed to a brown car. Steve doesn’t take in the make or the license plate like he knows he’s supposed to, having a little trouble even breathing.

She shoves him into the back seat, right next to B, before hopping in the front. All heads turn to look at Steve, the driver eyes him in the rearview. The second C’s door is closed they’re speeding away.

It all sort of falls apart after that. Door guy is yelling at C. “Why the fuck did you bring a loaded gun!”

She yells back. “They’re _blanks_ , you fuckin’ moron.”

“And a hostage, C? Really? Do you wanna go to prison?”

The driver keeps turning up the metal track playing to drown them out when a curt _shut the fuck up_ doesn’t do the trick. Steve’s hyperventilating. B notices.

“Hey,” B says, barely audible over the yelling. He tries again a little louder, kicks the front passenger seat. “Hey!” No break in the racket. B rolls down the window, gets a hand out, slams his fist into the roof of the car. “HEY!" Everyone flinches. “Keep the fuckin’ noise down, guy’s losing it a little back here.”

The driver turns down the music. C sticks her tongue out at B in the rearview, he flips her off in answer, then turns towards Steve. “What’s your name?”

Steve wheezes. “S-Steve.”

“Alright Steve, I need you to slow your roll with the breathing, think you can do that for me?”

Steve shakes his head, still gasping, heart beating a mile a minute.

“Anybody got a bag or something?” C rifle’s around the glove compartment, tosses back a screwed up paper bag. B smooths it out, breaths into it to inflate it a little, hands it to Steve. “Breathe into this, deep and slow.”

Steve tries, it doesn’t start working till B gets a hand on his back, starts rubbing circles between his shoulder blades. This is objectively the weirdest Christmas Eve Steve’s ever had. He keeps going till he stops feeling his heart beat in his ears.

“We’re not gonna hurt you, you know,” B says. “Probably just drop you in a field. Not too far from the road, you can hitchhike.”

“O-ok.”

“You still have your phone?”

“Uh huh,”

“You can call someone, then.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re handling this pretty well, you know. First time?”

“In a bank, or a robbery?”

B laughs all breathy, flashes Steve a mouth full of pearly whites. “Both, either.”

“No, and yes.”

“How you findin’ it?”

“It’s not how I planned to spend my night,”

“What were you gonna do?”

“I was just gonna get high, order pizza, play halo.”

“Damn, that’s a good night. Sorry we’re keeping you.”

C turns in her seat. “Stop making friends with the hostage.”

“Bite me,” C snaps her teeth at him before turning around again.

It’s quiet for a little bit. It’s freaking Steve out. “Can you uh, can we keep talking?” B looks at him. “The quiet, it keys me up. I don’t like it.”

B licks his lips, Steve tracks the sweep of his pink tongue over pinker lips, tells himself he’s noticing in case he has to ID the guy later. “Sure.” Door guy groans beside B. B snaps. “Shut the fuck up, T.”

Steve fumbles. “Do you…do this a lot?”

“Now that would be telling,”

“Do you always do it like this? With guns and shit?”

“‘Fraid I can’t answer that, pretty boy.”

“‘Cause you don’t have to. Use guns, I mean.”

“What, like use fakes ones instead?”

“No, you don’t have to use anything. You can pass a note to a teller demanding money and it’s procedure for them to just give it to you.”

“You’re joking,” Steve shakes his head. B slumps back in his seat. “Can’t believe a hostage is telling me how to rob banks better.”

“Can’t believe I’m a hostage at all,”

…

They drive for about another half hour. Steve somehow manages to befriend everyone in the car, thank god for his endless well of charisma. They stop by a cornfield a little ways off from a gas station. Everyone in the car seems sad for him to go, even the silent driver gives him a smile, eyes crinkling. B gets out of the car to see him off.

“I’m real sorry ‘bout all this, grabbing somebody wasn’t the plan.”

“It’s cool, not your fault.”

B arches a brow. “Are you serious right now?” Steve shrugs, B shakes his head, incredulous. “Can’t believe I just accidentally kidnapped the nicest guy in Indiana.” Steve laughs with him. It sounds a little hysterical.

“You sure you’re ok?”

“I’m good,”

“Your phone have power?” Steve turns it on, holds it up so B can see the near full battery.

“Well, alright then. It was nice meeting you Steve,”

“I wanna say you too, but…”

B chuckles. “No sweat, dude.”

He climbs back in the car, waves out the back window as it pulls away. Steve waves back.

**Author's Note:**

> I did not do a lot of research for this, so take realism of events with a hefty grain of salt. The silent dial thing is real though, so's the note passing in bank robberies. Do with that info what you will.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://bry0psidawrites.tumblr.com) [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bryopsida)


End file.
